Unreal World

I walk down the shore one moon lit night,

The sand is cold under my feet,

And the water gleams like diamonds,

The smell of wet sand and the sound of the waves,

Unaware of the sounds of turmoil.

The stars that glitter know not,

That the light of hope dies out,

In the distance the sea gull,

Cannot sing the songs lament,

And the rocks alive with algae,

Know not the slippery hands of a lover.

As this unreal world does it’s magic,

The sands of time draw their swords,

So their sharp clinks can resound,

Down in the dungeons of hell.

The Season That Does Not Pass

I waited as the rain pattered on the roof,

Each drop like the clamour of swords.

The smell of mud fills the air,

An aura of purity lingers.

The rain washes all it touches,

Cleans every surface and crevice,

Yet, even such purity fears,

That which is inside the human mind.

I watch as the season passes,

I’m still waiting as winter arrives,

The chill that fills the air,

Sends shivers down my spine.

The flowers fret and crouch,

The water pricks my hands,

But the icy breeze is warmer,

Than the frozen hope in our mind.

Winter melts into summer,

The green dries out,

And the heat kills,

But only a miracle can end my wait,

For a season that brings hope and love,

And faith and dreams,

For a season that does not pass,

I wait in vain,

I wait in hope,

For that spark of fire,

Unafraid of man’s cold and bitter desire.

Down That Street

I’m walking down the street,

It’s all so familiar,

I don’t know why I go there again,

But somehow nothing’s ever clear,

The roads are wet, the air damp,

And intense darkness clogs my brain,

Yet sometimes I come down and visit this lane,

With its surroundings ever so mundane.

 It holds me when I feel deep and distant,

And drowns me when I’m hardly looking,

Hours later when I resurface,

It’s where I go back to for solace,

Looking back I realize that this lane,

With its streets ever so mundane,

Might be a dark corner in my head,

With broken dreams which has been fed.

Long Winding lane

I walk down that long winding lane,

The one they often call life,

I cross the sign posts and the bridges,

And watch the mountains go by.

I don't know my way around,

And I can't tell where I'm going to be,

I don't know how I'm going to get there,

And I don't know how I'm going to see.

But I've heard them say,

The few who wander into my way,

That you'll see the turn you must take,

Just when it's the right time of the day.